For Sinric

[athelstanthescribe]

Athelstan's room is almost pathologically neat, the bed made and everything in its place.

He stands aside to let Sinric in, the bathroom door standing open to reveal the huge sunken bath inside.

Comments

[thewidewideworld]

He wants to take them to the bed and make this easier, to feel them deeper and harder.

But he couldn't pull away if he wanted to. Not now. He chokes his moans out around Athelstan's shaft, skilled enough it the art of pleasuring a man with his mouth that he doesn't need Athelstan's thrusts to bring him to the edge.

Or to endure the wondrous pleasure of being taken as he does. Every thrust draws out a gasping moan that only adds to Athelstan's pleasure.

[athelstanthescribe]

There will be other times for the bed.

Athelstan groans, low in his throat, as his fingers tangle further in Sinric's hair.

[bigarmy_strangepants]

Moaning softly himself, Ragnar thrusts up. The hand on Sinric moves lower, to massage circles over his belly; but he won't go lower than that without encouragement.

"Athelstan," he says. "Oriens."

[thewidewideworld]

He gently reaches down and guides Ragnar's hand back up to his breasts. He still can't, it's still too soon. But he wants Ragnar's hand on him.

He wants their seed in him, both of them. He wants their pleasure, all of it.

[athelstanthescribe]

He's getting it, as Athelstan tilts back a little in his pleasure, steadied only by his hand and Ragnar's on his knee.

[bigarmy_strangepants]

Ragnar's callused fingers lavish great attention on Sinric's nipples -- if that is what he wants, he shall have it!

He leans forward, still thrusting, to kiss Sinirc's spine between the shoulder blades; but he looks up as not to lose sight of Athelstan, so lovely and moving in his pleasure.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric sucks and swallows, relishing every drop and lap of taste, feeling Athelstan tremble under his hands, under his lips, feeling Ragnar's thrusts push him further onto Athelstan's prick.

Perfect.

[athelstanthescribe]

Athelstan is being as gentle as he can, but his passion is rising and overtaking his thoughts.

[bigarmy_strangepants]

Ragnar thrusts up more powerfully as well, his prick sliding into Sinric all the way to the hilt with eery thrust.

He won't be long now.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric has no need for gentle, no desire for waiting. He wants to ache in all the best ways. He wants to feel them when he moves, to remind himself it's real. He wants their pleasure more than he can bear his own.

{ooc: logging off, I swear!}

[athelstanthescribe]

Athelstan's hands tighten in his hair as he draws close to the edge, pulling hard.

[bigarmy_strangepants]

Ragnar can't contain his pleasure any more -- he spills his seed into Sinric's hole, with a great bellow of utter abandon, burying his prick to the hilt as the hot spurts release deep into the warm, welcoming body.

He spills, and spills, and spills some more, with great abandon; it takes a number of heartbeats until he is done.

[thewidewideworld]

The heat and force of Ragnar's release makes Sinric cry out, his throat tight and humming around Athelstan as he seeks to draw him over the edge too.

[athelstanthescribe]

He feels Ragnar's release even with Sinric's body between them, and Sinric's pleasure more directly, and the two combine to push him over into peaking.

[bigarmy_strangepants]

Ragnar gasps, clinging to both of them, unable to speak.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric drinks down Athelstan's release with hungry fervour, lapping and licking to catches every drop. He rests his cheek in Athelstan's thigh, panting raggedy.

He feels right, good. Filled and stretched and content. Their pleasure may have surmounted his own but his own pleasure to a wild and terrifying thing he can't face so soon. This is what he needed and they have giving it to him with such vigour and kindness. He purrs happily, clenching around Ragnar once more before kissing the inner curve of Athelstan's thigh.

[athelstanthescribe]

With that done, Athelstan slips back into the water to embrace Sinric, touching his face and hair.

[bigarmy_strangepants]

Ragnar reaches out to wrap a long, strong arm around the both of them, and cranes his neck for a kiss from Athelstan.

[thewidewideworld]

Tucked warmly between them, Sinric sighs, content to hold and be held. He rests his head on Ragnar's shoulder, moving aside to let them kiss.

[athelstanthescribe]

Athelstan kisses Ragnar as tenderly as he's holding Sinric.

[bigarmy_strangepants]

Ragnar returns the kiss as tenderly, hands still gently roaming Sinric's body.

[thewidewideworld]

He leans into their embrace for long moments, enjoying the warmth and the pleasant ache of his body before siding out from between them and letting them embrace each other.

He has been shared so many times, and always those who share him need time to connect with each other too. He seeks out a cloth and the liquid soap, ready to wash them when they break from their moment.

[athelstanthescribe]

Athelstan lets his hand run over Sinric's skin in a gesture of thanks until he's out of reach, then moves fully into Ragnar's arms.

[bigarmy_strangepants]

Ragnar runs a hand down Sinric's retreating arm as well, in a gesture of thanks, then takes Athelstan in his arms and pulls him close and kisses him deeply and languidly.

"I love you," he whispers into the kiss. "Thank you for finding him in this way."

Sinric is still too close to even suggest aloud that there is more to tell. Bit Athelstan probably realises without Ragnar saying so, in so many words.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric waits quietly and politely at the other end of the bath, washing himself with the efficiency of someone accustomed to only having a moment to wash between engagements.